The Hunted
by Sarcastic Elf
Summary: A diplomatic trip to Imladris turns tragic and a young Legolas finds himself fighting for his life as well as Thranduil’s. Chapter 6 finally up.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Hunted  
**Summary:** A diplomatic trip to Imladris turns tragic and a young Legolas finds himself fighting for his life as well as Thranduil's.

**Disclaimer:** Middle-Earth and her people were created by J.R.R. Tolkien. Copyright, trademarks and the like are held by their respective creators including Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Cinema. No money is being made off of this story.

**Timeline Note:** This story takes place toward the end of the Watchful Peace (2063-2460), a time during which Sauron temporarily withdrew from Dol Guldur. I'm going by the theory that Legolas was born late during this time as presented in Michael Martinez's article Speaking of Legolas  
http:www. suite101. com/ article.cfm/ tolkien/ 36517  
and Ellen Brundige's Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince Among Equals  
http:www. / tolkien/ legolas.html  
This would make him some 525-600 years at the War of the Ring (rather young for an Elf).  
(Remove spaces in the URLs after copying them to the Address Bar for them to work)

-------

**Chapter 1**

It was a quiet, spring day that found a group of six Wood Elves traveling on horseback through the foothills of the Misty Mountains toward Imladris. They were dressed in practical green and brown clothing and rode with no tack, as was common with their people. Each carried a bow and a quiver full of arrows, as well as at least one blade of some sort, be it a sword or a long knife. One might have been tempted to dismiss this group as a mere scouting party if not for the presence of two golden-haired Elves, a color uncommon amongst the Elves of Greenwood.

One was tall and slender, his long hair pulled back in a warrior's fashion. Though he was dressed in similar simple garb as the others, he radiated a sense of nobility. It was obvious that this was no mere scout. The other one was younger. To the human eye, he would have looked no older than 15. His hair was the same hue as the elder Elf's and the definite resemblance left no doubt of a close relation. The elder Elf was Thranduil, King of the Greenwood Elves and the younger was his son, Legolas.

Whenever traveling abroad, Thranduil always dressed in simple clothing so not to draw attention to himself. Displaying his status would do nothing but make him a target to attackers and would also place the rest of the Elves in danger as they had sworn to protect him with their lives. His son, following his example, also displayed no evidence of his status.

"How far are we from Imladris, Father?" asked Legolas.

Thranduil smiled at him. "Are you getting impatient, Legolas?"

Legolas shrugged nonchalantly. "I am just curious," he replied. Thranduil raised an eyebrow knowingly and Legolas gave him a sheepish grin. "And a little anxious," he admitted. This resulted in light chuckles from the rest of the elves in the group.

"We are not far," Thranduil replied. "We shall reach Lord Elrond's house tomorrow, if all goes well."

"We can make it before dawn if we keep traveling, my lord" said one of the guards, glancing back at them over his shoulder. He gestured to elf riding beside them. "Right, Bellgolf?"

Bellgolf gave him a sidelong glance. "Leave me out of this, Calenthâr."

Calenthâr frowned. "But you are the one who pointed it out."

"Are you two arguing again?" came a voice from behind.

All four elves turned to look at the two elves riding at the rear of the small group.

"Oh, hush up, Sadroniôn," Calenthâr called back. "I was just pointing out something to King Thranduil."

"And I was pointing out that he was a fool for doing so," Bellgolf chimed in.

"Well, tell us what you said so we can decide," said the other elf.

"Thank you, Hannion," said Calenthâr. "I was merely stating, as Bellgolf pointed out," Bellgolf shook his head and turned forward at this. "That if we travel through the night we could reach Imladris before dawn."

Thranduil held up his hand, indicating silence. "However," he said. "We would be rousing the household at an unseemly hour."

"Yes, my lord," Calenthâr replied, crestfallen.

"It was not a bad idea," Thranduil continued. "Were we traveling back to our own home, I would not hesitate to follow your suggestion."

Calenthâr smiled slightly. "Thank you, my lord."

"There is a copse of trees a few miles up," said Thranduil, gesturing forward with his head. "We can set up camp there."

The group arrived at the copse as the sun was slipping below the horizon. They stopped in a clearing amidst the trees, released horses to graze, and then began to set up camp, with even Thranduil and Legolas assisting. After a light dinner, they arranged a watch cycle, with Calenthâr first ("You wanted to stay up all night, anyway," Hannion had quipped) and the others prepared for sleep.

"I do not know if I will be able to sleep tonight," Legolas admitted to Thranduil as he settled down beside his father.

"Excited about seeing Imladris?" Thranduil asked, though he already knew the answer.

Legolas nodded. "Yes," he replied. "But I am nervous as well. I know their customs are different from ours. I am afraid I will do something to offend them."

Thranduil smiled slightly. "Do not worry. We are no so different. Just be polite and all will be well. And I am sure they will forgive any unintentional slight. Now," he continued, pulling Legolas' blanket up to his chin. "Sleep. You will need to rest for tomorrow."

Legolas frowned slightly and pulled his blanket back down a few inches. He felt was far to old to be tucked in by his father. Thranduil merely smirked and gave Legolas a kiss on his forehead for good measure before settling down on his own blanket.

It was silent for the most part, save for the natural sounds of night. Thranduil was woken by the change of watch. Rising up slightly on his elbows, he saw that Calenthâr was already sound asleep in his bedroll and Hannion was changing out with Sadroniôn. Though, instead of returning to his own bedroll, Sadroniôn walked off into the trees.

Not giving it a second though, Thranduil laid back on the ground. Looking up at the sky, he saw that there were still several hours before sunrise.

Thranduil tried to get back to sleep, but found he could not. After a while, he decided to relieve Hannion and with a sigh, he sat up.

"Father?" came a sleepy voice from beside him. "What is it?"

Thranduil smiled at Legolas. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Legolas nodded once and settled back down. Thranduil gracefully rose to his feet, pulled on his cloak, and walked over to where Hannion was standing.

"All is well?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord," Hannion replied with a quick salute.

"Good," Thranduil said with a nod. "Now go and get some rest, I will take over watch."

"That is not necessary, my lord, I am quite rested," Hannion said casually. Then suddenly realizing exactly to whom he was talking, he stiffened and gave Thranduil a formal salute. "That is, unless it was an order, King Thranduil," he said quickly.

Thranduil almost laughed at his display, but merely waved it off. "Nay, it is not an order. I merely did not see the point of someone losing rest if there was another who did not need it."

"Sadroniôn is also not tired," Hannion said, relaxing. "He offered to continue his watched and when I refused, he decided to go for a walk."

Thranduil looked back at the camp and the sleeping forms of Legolas, Calenthâr and Bellgolf.

"And where is Bellgolf?"

"Here, my lord," said Bellgolf as he dropped down from a tree. "I was listening to the trees."

"Your watch is last, you should get some rest," Thranduil replied.

"Yes, my lord." Bellgolf gave him a salute and headed off for his bedroll.

"Well," Thranduil said. "I think I shall follow Sadroniôn's example and take a walk myself. If Legolas wakes, do not let him wander off."

"Yes, my lord," Hannion replied with another salute.

Thranduil acknowledged it with a slight nod and walked into the trees.

The copse they had chosen was rather thick that it could be called a small forest. The trees were tall, though still dwarfed by the trees in Greenwood. Thranduil strolled through the trees for a while, listening to their song and breathing in the night air. He stopped at an area where the leaves were thin and he could see the night sky. A soft smile appeared on his lips as he looked up at the bright stars. He sensed somebody coming up from behind him, but did not acknowledge his presence until he spoke.

"Lovely night, is it not?"

"That it is," Thranduil replied, turning around to face the smiling Sadroniôn.

Sadroniôn had always been a cheerful Elf, ever since childhood. Many had feared that the death of his father would change Sadroniôn. But he surprised them all by keeping his cheery disposition. Very seldom was he seen without as smile on his face.

The Silvan Elf walked up to Thranduil and respectfully saluted him. He then looked up at the stars through the canopy of leaves.

"I remember my father bringing me out to camp when I was a young child," Sadroniôn said. Thranduil stiffened slightly as the mention of Sadroniôn's father, but said nothing. "I do not remember much," Sadroniôn continued. "I was too young. But I remember that most clearly."

Thranduil remained silent, unsure of how to reply or if to reply at all. He did not look at Sadroniôn, either, choosing to keep his eyes on the stars.

"What was he like?"

Thranduil blinked at the sudden question and finally looked at Sadroniôn.

"Excuse me?"

"What was my father like?" Sadroniôn repeated. "You knew him."

Thranduil frowned slightly. Yes, he new Sadroniôn's father, Nûrdor. But what am I to tell him? he thought. That his father was mad?

"He was a fine warrior," Thranduil said finally. It was the truth; Nûrdor had been one of Greenwood's most talented soldiers. Sadroniôn had followed in his father's footsteps.

"He was obviously not as good as you," Sadroniôn said with a shrug, the bright smile still on his face.

Thranduil felt uneasy. He did not like the casual manner in which Sadroniôn was discussing Nûrdor and his death. Sadroniôn had never spoken to him about his father. In fact, he had rarely spoken to anyone about his father, not even to his mother. Many thought it was because he was so young at the time, but he had not even asked questions. Sadroniôn had just apparently accepted the fact that he would not see his father ever again.

_But, perhaps,_ thought Thranduil. _Perhaps this conversation is long overdue._

"I am sure he put up a good fight," Sadroniôn said. "If he was as good a warrior as people say he was."

Thranduil took a deep breath and took a step toward the other Elf. "Sadroniôn, I…" he broke of as Sadroniôn suddenly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him forward. Then he gasped as a sharp pain knifed through him. Thranduil looked down to see Sadroniôn's dagger sticking out of his abdomen and, with a shocked and pained expression, looked back up at Sadroniôn's pleasantly smiling face.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this opportunity."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Just a list of original characters:

**Sadroniôn:** (_sadron_ – faithful; _iôn_ – son) One of Thranduil's guards.  
**Bellgolf:** (_bell_ – strong; _golf_ – branch) Ditto  
**Calenthâr:** (_calen_ – green; _thâr_ – grass) Ditto  
**Hannion:** (_hann_ – intelligent; _ion_ – son) Ditto  
**Nûrdor:** (_nûr_ – deep; _dor_ – land) Sadroniôn's late father.

All Sindarin name definitions are from the Hiswelók's Sindarin dictionary. (Remove spaces)  
http: www. jrrvf. com/ hisweloke/ sindar/


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** The Hunted  
**Summary:** A diplomatic trip to Imladris turns tragic and a young Legolas finds himself fighting for his life as well as Thranduil's.

**Disclaimer:** Middle-Earth and her people were created by J.R.R. Tolkien. Copyright, trademarks and the like are held by their respective creators including Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Cinema. No money is being made off of this story.

**Timeline Note:** This story takes place toward the end of the Watchful Peace (2063-2460), a time during which Sauron temporarily withdrew from Dol Guldur. I'm going by the theory that Legolas was born late during this time as presented in Michael Martinez's article Speaking of Legolas  
http:www. suite101. com/ article.cfm/ tolkien/ 36517  
and Ellen Brundige's Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince Among Equals  
http:www. / tolkien/ legolas.html  
This would make him some 525-600 years at the War of the Ring (rather young for an Elf).  
(Remove spaces in the URLs after copying them to the Address Bar for them to work)

-------

Chapter 2

Legolas couldn't sleep and he was feeling rather foolish about it.

He was resting just fine before he was roused by his father getting up. But try as he might, he couldn't get back to sleep. At first, he thought he merely wasn't sleepy, but after suppressing multiple yawns, he ruled out that theory. Then he told himself that ground was simply too uncomfortable. But that hadn't kept him from falling asleep earlier and he had slept in far more uncomfortable places before. Finally, and with great reluctance, Legolas acknowledge the real reason for his inability to sleep.

It was dark, he was in a strange place, and he wanted his father.

Legolas clenched his blanket in his fist. He was far too old to need his father to coddle him. Yet he couldn't deny that with the departure of his father so went any chance of him getting to sleep. With a frustrated sigh he pushed himself to his feet.

"My lord?"

Legolas looked over at Hannion. "Which way did my father go?" he asked.

Hannion indicated the direction with a nod of his head. 

"Thank you," Legolas said as he began walking toward the trees.

"My lord, you cannot go out," Hannion said, stepping in front of him. "Your father gave me instructions not to let you leave the camp."

Legolas frowned. "But I am going to find my father."

"My apologies, but that was the king's orders," Hannion replied.

Legolas managed not to wince. But as it was, the orders of the King always out weighed the orders of the Prince, at least, as far as the soldiers were concerned. But, that never stopped Legolas from at least trying.

"I am going to find my father, now," Legolas stated and started to walk around him.

Hannion once again blocked his path. "Please, Prince Legolas. If there is something you need, perhaps I can get it for you."

_I need my father,_ Legolas thought, but was not about to admit it to Hannion. Instead, he said, "I simply want to share a walk through the trees with my father."

Hannion's face revealed nothing, but Legolas was sure he did not believe him.

"Oh, let him go, Hannion," said Bellgolf, rising from his bedroll.

"But the King said…" Hannion started.

"If it will make you feel better, I will go with him," Bellgolf interrupted.

"It would make me feel better if Prince Legolas would stay in the camp as the King commanded," retorted Hannion.

"I am going to find my father, now," Legolas repeated. "Bellgolf will accompany me and I will assure my father that you tried to stop me." He flashed him a bright smile. "He knows more than anybody how stubborn I can be."

Hannion sighed. "Very well. It will be on your head, Bellgolf, if any ill befalls the prince."

"No ill will befall anyone," Bellgolf protested. "There is none around save our party and the trees speak of no threat. Come, My Prince. Let us retrieve your wayward father."

With a grateful smile, Legolas led the way into the trees.

Hannion watched them disappear from view and shook his head. Turning back to the camp, he saw Calenthâr rising to his feet.

"You cannot sleep, either?" he inquired.

"How can I when everybody is up and chattering?" Calenthâr replied as he stretched. "I am going for a walk." With that, he turned around and walked off into the trees.

Hannion stood in one place for a long moment, looking at the now empty camp. Then, with a sigh, he dropped down onto a log.

"Well, I guess there is nothing left for me to do but to make sure the squirrels do not carry off our stuff."

--

"Thank you for accompanying me, Bellgolf," Legolas said as they walked through the trees.

"It was my pleasure, Prince Legolas," Bellgolf replied. "Um, though, you will tell the King that it was your idea, right?" he asked, a bit nervously.

Legolas laughed. "Do not worry. I will deal with my father. Though you had best prepare for a reprimand, at the very least."

Bellgolf frowned. There were some who would rather receive a month's worth of night duty then receive even a short reprimand from Thranduil since it usually meant having to endure his piercing glare.

"I think he went this way," Legolas said, turning slightly. "I think I hear voices ahead."

He quickened his pace and before long, walked into a clearing, closely followed by Bellgolf. They froze at the sight before them.

Sadroniôn was clutching Thranduil's shoulder with one hand while the other was pressing a dagger into the Elven King's stomach.

"Father!"

Sadroniôn carelessly pulled his dagger out of Thranduil and shoved him away, causing the Elven King to stumble to the ground. Legolas ran forward, darting around Sadroniôn who ignored him and focused on Bellgolf.

"Legolas," Thranduil gasped out, trying to push himself off the ground with one hand while pressing the other against his wound. "Run!"

"No," Legolas replied, pressing the tail of his tunic against the wound with a trembling hand. "I will not leave you."

Meanwhile, Bellgolf, having shaken himself out of his initial shock, was now cursing himself for not bringing his other weapons. Sadroniôn was now standing between him and the elves he had sworn to protect and all he had was his small boot knife. But he had not expected any danger, especially not from one of their own.

"Sadroniôn, have you gone mad?" Bellgolf demanded, pulling out his knife and trying to rush around him. But Sadroniôn quickly blocked his path.

Laughing as if Bellgolf had merely told a joke, Sadroniôn replied, "Maybe. But maybe I have been mad all this time and nobody noticed. Or maybe I have just come to my senses."

Bellgolf took a step forward, his small knife held out. "Stand aside, Sadroniôn!"

Sadroniôn chuckled. "Are you going to kill me with that little knife?" he asked, as he pulled out a much longer knife from his belt.

"If necessary, yes," Bellgolf replied, his eyes narrowing. He was nervous, for he knew he was outmatched. Not only was Sadroniôn better armed, but he was also a better warrior. Bellgolf let off a quick whistle, alerting the others, hoping that one of them was close enough to help him. If Sadroniôn was intent on killing him, he would not survive this otherwise.

"They will not come in time," Sadroniôn said with a shrug. "They will find you dead, along with the king and the prince. I was too late to save them, but I avenged their deaths."

"You foul…" but Bellgolf did not have time to finish as Sadroniôn charged him.

Bellgolf truly did not stand a chance against Sadroniôn. He mostly dodged and blocked the other elf's attacks, but there was only so much he could do with the small knife. Before too long, Sadroniôn got through his defenses and, in a flash, slit Bellgolf's throat. As his blood spilled from his body, Bellgolf felt regret that he did not last longer. But he was glad that he was able to provide the necessary distraction.

Sadroniôn sighed wistfully as he wiped his knife on Bellgolf's tunic. He had liked Bellgolf well enough, but he had gotten in the way.

"Ah, well," he muttered as he spun around on his heels and, for the first time that night, a frown marred his features.

The king and prince had disappeared.

--

Legolas and Thranduil stumbled through the darkness toward the camp as fast as they could move. Legolas was very much aware of the danger Thranduil was in. The stab wound was deep and he had no idea what damage it had caused. He had barely had time to wad up the ends of Thranduil's cloak and press it against the wound before pulling his father to his feet and fleeing the scene.

Legolas looked down at the blood-drenched cloth Thranduil was holding against his stomach. He wanted to stop to properly bandage it but he knew he could not. For one thing, all the medical supplies were at the camp. For another thing, no matter how well the wound was bandaged up, it would not matter should Sadroniôn catch them here, alone and unarmed. He allowed himself a small bit of hope that Bellgolf would defy the odds and overcome Sadroniôn, but he could not risk being wrong, not when his father's life was on the line. Legolas had learned from his warrior training that they should hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Legolas was now trying to mentally prepare himself to defend his father against an elf he had thought to be a friend.

Legolas let out a sigh of relief when they reached the camp. The relief was short lived, though, as he realized that the camp was empty.

Where is everybody? he thought in frustration. Then he remembered Bellgolf's signal. They are out there looking for us. Legolas realized. Had the situation not been so serious, he would have laughed at the irony.

He was about to lower Thranduil to the ground and then realized how exposed he would be. Legolas needed to gather the bandages and their weapons; he would not be able to guard Thranduil.

"Legolas," Thranduil gasped out. Legolas almost flinched as he heard his father's voice. It was so weak and unsteady. Legolas had never heard it sound as such and it frightened him.

"Father, I need to find someplace to hid you," Legolas said quickly.

"No, Legolas," Thranduil continued. "You must go. Leave me. Find the horses and get away from this place. Sadroniôn is mad! He will not hesitate to kill you."

Legolas did not reply as he finally decided where to hid Thranduil, if it was possible. "Father, can you climb that tree?" He was motioning to a large tree with dense leaves.

"What?" Thranduil said. "Legolas, were you listening?"

"I was," Legolas replied, moving Thranduil toward the tree. "And I will not leave you, no matter what you say or how much you order me." Legolas propped Thranduil up against the large trunk and leapt up onto the lowest branch. He reached down toward Thranduil. "Now quickly, before Sadroniôn finds us."

Thranduil grasped Legolas' wrist with one bloody hand and Legolas pull him up onto the branch. With Legolas' help, Thranduil managed to climb up even further until he reached an area where he could safely sit. Legolas removed Thranduil's cloak before he settled into the branches. He then wadded up another section of the cloak and once again pressed it against the wound.

"I am going to get some things from the camp," Legolas said softly.

Thranduil gripped the shoulder of Legolas' tunic tightly. "Please, be careful," he pleaded.

"I will," Legolas promised.

He turned to jump down from the tree and froze. Sadroniôn had just entered the camp. Though the leaves were thick and it was still dark, Legolas did not dare move. He barely dared to breath as he watched Sadroniôn calmly looking around the camp. He saw Sadroniôn look down at the grass and the smile on his face widen.

_What is he…? No!_ Legolas looked back as his father, who was giving him a questioning look, for he could not see the camp from his position. His eyes drifted down to the still bleeding wound. Thranduil's tunic was drenched with blood as it flowed from the wound and down his leggings was a trail of crimson. He followed us, Legolas thought. He followed us using the blood. Legolas berated himself for not realizing it, but he was at a loss at what else he could have done.

Legolas turned back to the camp and his breath hitched.

Sadroniôn was heading straight for the tree.

TBC

* * *

**Response to Reviews:** This is the first time that I've actually responded to individual reviews and I may or may not keep up with it as I continue, but I'll try . 

**Someone Reading:** It's always good to meet another Thranduil fan. I too, have seen far too many Evil!Thranduil stories and there are far too few Good!Thranduil fics out there (believe me, I've looked ). "The Strength of One Greenleaf" is actually one of my favorites.  
**Darkgirl5:** Hello! It's good to "see" you again. Unfortunately, the back story won't be coming for a couple more chapters.  
**Templa Otmena:** As stated above, the background will come in a couple of chapters. Legolas, on the other hand, had his hands full in this chapter .  
**Brazgirl:** Yet another Thranduil fan! Hopefully we'll grow in numbers and drown out all those who think Thranduil is evil incarnate. **Jamie & Zammy:** I hope this update was soon enough for you . 

And thank you to everybody else who took the time to read. Also, if anybody is looking for some more Good!Thranduil fics, might I suggest my own Thranduil website ::cough,cough::shamelessplug::cough,cough:: (you can find the URL on my profile page) where I'm compiling a list of links to good stories.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** The Hunted  
**Summary:** A diplomatic trip to Imladris turns tragic and a young Legolas finds himself fighting for his life as well as Thranduil's.

**Disclaimer:** Middle-Earth and her people were created by J.R.R. Tolkien. Copyright, trademarks and the like are held by their respective creators including Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Cinema. No money is being made off of this story.

**Timeline Note:** This story takes place toward the end of the Watchful Peace (2063-2460), a time during which Sauron temporarily withdrew from Dol Guldur. I'm going by the theory that Legolas was born late during this time as presented in Michael Martinez's article Speaking of Legolas  
www. suite101. com/ article.cfm/ tolkien/ 36517  
and Ellen Brundige's Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince Among Equals  
www. / tolkien/ legolas.html  
This would make him some 525-600 years at the War of the Ring (rather young for an Elf). (Remove spaces in the URLs after copying them to the Address Bar for them to work)

**Chapter 3**

Thranduil knew something was wrong, though he could not see the camp. Judging from Legolas' reaction, he was certain that Sadroniôn had caught up with them, which also meant that Bellgolf was most likely dead. Legolas looked back at him and Thranduil silently asked him to confirm his suspicions. But his son didn't reply. Legolas' eyes lowered to the hand clasped firmly over the stab wound and the blood that still flowed from it. Thranduil was not surprised that Sadroniôn had tracked them using the trail of blood he undoubtedly left.

"Legolas, run!" he mouthed to his son. But Legolas had turned back to the camp.

Sadroniôn was calmly walking toward the tree, as if he were taking a stroll. Legolas's mind was racing, trying to come up with an idea to save himself and his father. But he was unarmed and outmatched. He thought, for a moment, about trying to lead Sadroniôn away, but he feared that Sadroniôn would just ignore him and go straight for Thranduil.

_Help!_ He cried mentally. _Somebody please help us!_

Sadroniôn had almost reached the tree when there was suddenly a rustle in the leaves of a tree across the camp from them. Legolas saw Sadroniôn freeze and turn toward the tree. There was some more rustling, further into the trees and away from the camp. Sadroniôn looked back up at the tree, trying to peer through the leaves. Legolas held his breath, daring not even to breath.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Sadroniôn turned on his heels with a childish giggle and followed the rustle in the trees. Legolas nearly went limp with relief as Sadroniôn walked away from the tree, but just as the Elf reached the edge of the clearing, he spun around pulled an arrow from his quiver and released it into the tree.

The arrow barely grazed Legolas' cheek as it flew by him and embedded itself in the trunk of the tree. Legolas froze. His heart was pounding and his breath was coming out in short gasps.

He was snapped out of his shock when he heard his father groan behind him. Without turning to look, he held up a hand, silently warning him to remain silent and still. He now realized that Sadroniôn did not really know if they were in the tree or not. He was hoping they would give up their position. Freezing was actually the best thing that he could have done.

Sadroniôn stared up at the tree for a long while before shrugging and dashing out of the clearing.

Legolas sighed and turned back to see is father perched awkwardly against a large branch. As he had suspected, Thranduil had tried to get up when Sadroniôn shot the arrow.

"Gone," Legolas whispered. "He is gone."

Thranduil nodded and leaned back limply against the tree.

Legolas looked at the arrow in the tree. It suddenly occurred to him how closely Sadroniôn had come to killing him. At this realization, Legolas suddenly felt his heart begin to pound again and he was finding it difficult to breath. Legolas did not resist when Thranduil pulled him toward him. He buried his face in father's chest, trying to get some control over himself.

Legolas did not know how long it was before he calmed down enough to pull away from Thranduil.

"Are you well?" Thranduil asked softly.

Legolas nodded and silently berated himself for acting so childish when his father needed him.

_I should be helping him,_ he thought angrily. _Not the other way around._

"I am going to get some supplies and our weapons," Legolas said. He leaned forward and kissed his father softly on his forehead. Legolas almost shuddered when he felt how cold and clammy it was.

"Legolas…"Thranduil began, reaching out to him again. Legolas grasped Thranduil's hand tightly in his own.

"I will be careful, Father," he said. "But I will not sit by and watch you bleed to death."

He released his hand and turned toward the tree beside them. He would go around the camp through the trees and drop from a random tree, just in case Sadroniôn was still watching. But before he jumped away, he placed a hand on the trunk of the tree.

"Thank you," he breathed out. The trees had distracted Sadroniôn for them and had very well saved their lives. For the time being, at least.

Legolas quickly made his way through the trees and, after taking another look around the area, dropped down to the ground. He darted silently into the camp and found his pack. He dumped out the contents of his pack and began rummaging through the other packs, looking for any and all bandages and herbs to use, stuffing it into his pack as he found it. He also gathered some bags of dried meat and fruit and a couple of water bottles. His father would need it to keep his strength up while they found help.

He tied up the pack and was about to get his weapons when he felt a presence behind him. But before he could turn around, a hand clasped his mouth firmly while a strong arm wrapped around his waist.

---

Calenthâr stood silently in a tree, extending his senses, trying to locate his missing comrades. He had heard the signal, but had yet to locate whoever had voiced it. In fact, he had yet to come across anybody and was starting to get terribly concerned especially for his king and prince. The trees did nothing to ease his concerns. They were uneasy. Something bad had happened, for the trees were uneasy; but what it was, he could not figure out.

He was about to drop down from the tree to search from the ground when he heard a rustling of leaves coming toward him. It sounded like somebody was traveling through the treetops but weren't taking care to be silent.

That can only be bad, he thought, pulling an arrow from his quiver.

The rustling in the leaves suddenly stopped only a few trees away from Calenthâr. The elf peered through the leaves, his bow at the ready, trying to spy anybody hiding in the trees. Suddenly, he saw Sadroniôn emerge from the leaves, looking around as if searching.

Calenthâr relaxed slightly and whistled softly, to get his attention. He saw Sadroniôn look in his direction and nod once. A moment later, he was standing beside Calenthâr, holding his long knife.

"Sadroniôn ," Calenthâr said with a smile. "I am happy to see you. Do you know what is going on? Who were chasing? Where is the king? Is that blood?"

Calenthâr had just noticed the dark stains on Sadroniôn 's tunic. Sadroniôn looked down at his tunic, as if just noticing the stains.

"Are you well?" Calenthâr asked, gently placing a hand on Sadroniôn 's shoulder.

"Bellgolf is dead."

Sadroniôn had spoken so casually that it took a moment for Calenthâr to realize what he had said. "What?" He gasped out, the blood draining from his face. "By who? When? Is that who you were chasing? His killer?"

"The king is injured."

"Where is he?" he demanded. He was starting to get frustrated with Sadroniôn's apparent unwillingness to supply any details. "Was it the person who killed Bellgolf? Is the prince injured as well?"

Sadroniôn nodded. "Will you help him?"

Calenthâr blinked a couple of times, surprised at the question. "Of course I will! Where is he?"

"I thought so," replied Sadroniôn as he drove his knife into Calenthâr's chest.

---

"Peace, my prince. It is I, Hannion," a voice whispered in his ear.

Legolas stopped struggling for a moment and looked back at his "attacker" to see that it was indeed, Hannion. Legolas relaxed and Hannion released him.

"Forgive my, Prince Legolas," Hannion said in a hushed tone. "But I did not want you to cry out and I needed to get your attention as soon as possible."

Legolas just nodded.

"Where is the king?"

"Hidden," Legolas replied, softly as he slung the bag over his shoulder and quickly picked up his bow and quiver of arrows. "It was Sadroniôn. He tried to kill him."

Hannion breathed in sharply. "Are you sure?"

"I saw him," Legolas insisted. "Now come. The king needs you."

Legolas lead him into the trees and around the camp to where Thranduil was hidden. Hannion's heart almost stopped when he saw Thranduil. He was pale and still; his eyes were closed and he looked like he wasn't breathing.

"My king," Hannion cried softly, rushing past Legolas. His fingers immediately went to the king's neck and he sighed with relief when he found a pulse. It was weak and irregular, but the king still lived.

He was even more relieved then Thranduil opened his eyes. While clouded slightly with pain, they were still sharp. He was still very much lucid.

"Hannion?"

"Yes, my king."

"Where is…"

"I am here, Father," Legolas replied, coming up on the other side of Thranduil and gently wiping his father's brow with a soft cloth. He then began pulling bandages out of his pack and motioning for Hannion to aid him.

"What is going on, my lord?" Hannion asked as he began cutting away Thranduil's tunic so they could easily reach the wound. "I found Bellgolf," he paused and took a deep breath. "He is dead, my lord."

Thranduil took a deep breath and closed his eyes at the news. It was not surprising, but he still mourned the loss of Bellgolf's life. Particularly since it was he Bellgolf was protecting.

"It was Sadroniôn," Legolas repeated while gently cleaning Thranduil's injury. "He tried to kill my father and he killed Bellgolf when he tried to help us."

"But why?"

Legolas shook his head. "I know not." He turned to his father. "Has he gone mad? Why did he try to kill you?"

Thranduil was silent. Thinking they would not be getting an answer, Hannion and Legolas returned to their task. They worked quickly and in silence. It wasn't until they had finished that Thranduil finally spoke.

"I can only think of one reason that would make Sadroniôn turn on me," he said softly as Hannion laid his cloak over him.

"What is it, Father?" Legolas asked, grasping one of Thranduil's hands.

"I murdered his father."

TBC

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**  
**Okay, I realize I've been rather evil with the cliffhangers in this story. Didn't really mean to do that, but that's how this fic is coming out. Next chapter, we go back in time to the beginning of the Third Age to find out exactly what went down between Thranduil and Sadroniôn's father.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** The Hunted  
**Summary:** A diplomatic trip to Imladris turns tragic and a young Legolas finds himself fighting for his life as well as Thranduil's.

**Disclaimer:** Middle-Earth and her people were created by J.R.R. Tolkien. Copyright, trademarks and the like are held by their respective creators including Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Cinema. No money is being made off of this story.

**Timeline Note:** This story takes place toward the end of the Watchful Peace (2063-2460), a time during which Sauron temporarily withdrew from Dol Guldur. I'm going by the theory that Legolas was born late during this time as presented in Michael Martinez's article Speaking of Legolas  
http:www. suite101. com/ article.cfm/ tolkien/ 36517  
and Ellen Brundige's Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince Among Equals  
http:www. / tolkien/ legolas.html  
This would make him some 525-600 years at the War of the Ring (rather young for an Elf).  
(Remove spaces in the URLs after copying them to the Address Bar for them to work)

-------

**Chapter 4**

The Beginning of the Third Age and the Reign of Thranduil of Greenwood

The King of Greenwood stared down at the reports in his hand and frowned. He had read through a single paragraph at least three times and still had no idea what it said. With a sigh of disgust, he threw it down on his desk and began rubbing his throbbing temple.

_I have to focus,_ he thought, irritably.

But he couldn't and he knew exactly why. It was _her_. The one elf that had the ability to get under his skin like not other. She was also the one elf he loved more than anything. His beloved Lossiell.

They had had a rather fierce row. At least, it was far worse than any past disagreement. Lossiell was getting impatient with him forever pushing back their marriage. First, it had been the War. She had wanted to bond before he traveled to Mordor with his father but he had insisted they wait.

"If the worse happens," he had told her. "I wish for you to be free to find love again."

"Do you not understand?" she had replied. "You are the only one I could ever love."

Thranduil had stood firm, promising that if and when he returned, they would be wed. But then his father and so many others were killed and he found himself stepping up to take his father's place, something he had never even imagined could happen.

Lossiell had been his sole support at the time. Thranduil had not been very comfortable with his father's adviser and many of his friends had been slain in the war or were dealing with their own losses. His dear mother had faded soon after his return. She had felt Oropher die and held on just long enough to give her blessing to the new king and to bid farewell to her beloved son.

But Lossiell was always there. She had stood by him, offering her support and asking nothing from him as he struggled with his new role and keeping the kingdom from falling apart.

That was several years ago and now Thranduil was much more comfortable in his position. So now Lossiell had decided it was high time they were married. But each time she broached the subject he would come up with some sort of excuse, but promising that it would be soon.

Lossiell had evidently grown tired of his excuses. She had brought up the subject during her morning visits to his office and had become furious when Thranduil had replied with the typical, "Soon, my love. But now is not a good time."

"Do you not love me?" she had asked after they had exchanged a few heated words, her eyes brimming with tears. "Tell me if you no longer do for I would rather know the truth than to be strung along like this."

"Of course I love you," Thranduil had insisted. "I love you more than anything."

"Then why do you not want to bond with me?" she demanded.

"You do not understand," Thranduil replied. "It is not a good time."

"When will it ever be?" She had run out of the room before Thranduil could even think of a reply.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. He went over Lossiell's words again and again.

"When will it ever be a good time?" he repeated out loud. Not now, he thought. Though more comfortable in the position as king, he was far from secure. He still felt he had much to prove to the kingdom and was working overtime to make sure everything went as smoothly as possible.

_I wouldn't make a good husband now,_ he mused. _I wouldn't be able to give her the attention she deserves. Maybe in a couple of years…_

But remembered how his own father had often times had to give up time with his mother (and himself) to deal with the problems of the kingdom. His mother had been very understanding, but they had already been married for many centuries before Oropher became king.

_I no long have that luxury,_ Thranduil thought grimly. _No matter how much I wish it to be different, any family I start will have to come second to the kingdom._

Thranduil stared down at the desk and shuddered as thought came unbidden to his mind. _She deserves better. Far better than you. Let her go to find happiness elsewhere for she will never be satisfied with you._

Thranduil was abruptly brought out of his dark thoughts by a sharp rap on the door. He quickly gathered himself and beckoned the visitor to enter.

Nûrdor, the Captian of the Guard entered and gave a sharp, formal salute. Nûrdor had replaced his cousin, who had been slain at Dagorlad. He had proven himself a great warrior during the battle and was an obvious choice for Thranduil and many of his advisors. Nûrdor had been especially helpful in the rebuilding Greenwood's defenses and standing army.

"My lord," he said, striding over to Thranduil's desk. "This week's report." He handed Thranduil the report.

"Thank you, Nûrdor," Thranduil replied, absently flipping through the report. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, my lord," Nûrdor replied.

Thranduil suddenly saw a flash and silver and instinctive pushed away from the desk just in time to avoid Nûrdor's long knife.

"I have come for your head!" Nûrdor declared with a sneer.

Thranduil jumped to his feet. "Have you gone mad, Nûrdor?" he demanded as he quickly looked around quickly for a weapon. But his sword was lying on a small table by the door. All he could find was a jeweled knife on his desk that was more decorative than anything. He had not expected to be attacked in his own office by the Captain of the Guard. But he still had the desk between him and Nûrdor. If he could keep it that way long enough for his guards to be summoned…

"Fool!" Nûrdor said with a sharp laugh. "A real king would not have been caught so unaware. And do not bother calling for the guards. I sent them on a little errand that will take them quite a while to finish up."

"That is what this is about?" Thranduil asked. "You did not approve of me ascending to the throne."

"Cursed Sindar," Nûrdor spat out. "Everything was fine until you came. Interfering where you did not belong. Coming under the guise of help and then "

"You were at the brink of a civil war," Thranduil retorted. "My father came at the request of the elders and took the throne at their request as well."

"Then they were fools!" Nûrdor shouted. "I warned them against interlopers but they did not listen."

Thranduil knew that there were several who had protested his father being appointed leadership of Greenwood. But they bowed to the wishes of the majority and worked with his father to make the transition go a smoothly as possible, many of them becoming members of the king's council. In fact, one of the most vocal later became one of Oropher's most trusted advisors.

"No! They followed him and look where it lead them! To death! To destruction!" Nudor continued. "Three quarters of our warriors killed, because of your father's foolishness and pride! Yet they do no learn. They allow the spawn of our destroyer to take power. I intend to rectify that mistake. Now come out from behind that desk. Or are you to much of a coward to face me?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "You are one to speak of cowardice; you who attack an unarmed opponent."

Nûrdor smiled and prepared to leap onto the desk. "Then perhaps I shall go to you!"

But before he could move, the door opened. Lossiell entered and froze as she took in the situation.

"What--?"

Nûrdor charged at her. Thranduil leapt over the desk, trying to stop Nûrdor and shouting for Lossiell to run. But Nûrdor was closer and faster. He was soon upon her, raising his sword to strike, but Lossiell did not run. Already she had Thranduil's sword in her hands and easily deflected the swing. Nûrdor jumped back slightly, preparing for another strike. Thranduil flung the small knife at him with all his might. Though blunt, the knife struck true and imbedded itself in Nûrdor's neck.

Nûrdor jerked back slightly in surprise and pain. He looked back at Thranduil and for a moment, their eyes met. Thranduil saw that there was no guilt in his eyes, only intense hatred and anger. Nûrdor opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead collapsed to the floor.

Thranduil stared at Nûrdor's body, trying to come to terms with what had just happened, what he had just done. Thranduil was no stranger to death and killing. Many an orc and evil man had met their doom at the tip of his sword. But never had he slain one of his own kind.

"Thranduil?"

The king looked up to see Lossiell still standing at the door, his sword clutch tightly in her right hand. Thranduil could see that she was trembling slightly.

"Ai!" he cried, running toward her. "You are not injured?" he asked, gripping her shoulders firmly, yet gently. "He did not harm you?"

Lossiell shook her head. "Nay, I am unharmed," she said softly.

Thranduil took her into his arms, holding her tightly. "Thank the Valar," he muttered into her hair. Lossiell dropped the sword and leaned into the embrace.

---

Nobody blamed Thranduil for Nûrdor's death once all the details came to light, save for Thranduil himself. Even Nûrdor's wife came to plead for forgiveness for the actions of her late husband. Yet the incident only made Thranduil feel worse for she had brought her young son, Sadroniôn, along.

"A wife with no husband, a son with no father," Thranduil as bemoaned to Lossiell afterwards. "Oh, what evil this has wrought."

So Thranduil decided to make amends. He saw to it that Nûrdor's wife and son were well taken care of, providing them a stipend and making sure Sadroniôn got the best tutoring available. It made him feel better, know that their suffering would be lessened some.

There was an investigation launched to discover if there were any other's involved in Nûdor's assassination attempt. While, in the end, it appeared that Nûrdor acted on his own, Thranduil's council took no time in decreeing several new security measures. Never was Thranduil's office or the royal chambers to be without a guard at the entrance. While Thranduil bristled somewhat at the new measure (and outright refused to allow a guard within his private quarters), he took to the habit of keeping his sword within reach at all times, as well as hiding various weapons within his office.

If anything good came from Nûrdor's death it was Thranduil's realization of how precious Lossiell was to him. After a long conversation, in which Thranduil explained he would not be as attentive a husband as he wished due to the his duties as a king and Lossiell called him a fool for thinking that made any difference to her, they finally settled on a date for their wedding. They were married that next spring, after what Thranduil's friends called the longest betrothal period on record, and for the first time in so long, Thranduil felt truly happy.

TBC

* * *

Author's Notes:

Next chapter, back to the present.

1. In my version of Thrandui's history… --Thranduil was born during the first few centuries of the Second Age and thus missed the kinslayings and never had to defend himself against another Elf.  
--Oropher's ascension to Greenwood's throne is touched on in my fic 'Once Upon a Time in Lindon'. In short, he was the mediator as the Silvan Elves tried to choose a new leader and in the end was offered the job.  
--Lossiell (_loss_ – snow; _iell_ – maid): Thranduil's lovely bride. They met one evening after the first snowfall of winter. I have several versions of this meeting rolling around in my head. I may or may not get around to writing one of them down.

2. Nûrdor (_nûr – deep; _dor – land).


	5. Chapter 5

**Pre-fic Note:** I've learned an important lesson. This will probably be the last time I'll post a story that I haven't completed yet. Apologies for taking so long; hopefully the next chapter won't be such a wait.  
Thanks!

**Title:** The Hunted  
**Summary:** A diplomatic trip to Rivendell turns tragic and a young Legolas finds himself fighting for his life as well as Thranduil's.

**Disclaimer:** Middle-Earth and her people were created by J.R.R. Tolkien. Copyright, trademarks and the like are held by their respective creators including Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Cinema. No money is being made off of this story.

**Timeline Note:** This story takes place toward the end of the Watchful Peace (2063-2460), a time during which Sauron temporarily withdrew from Dol Guldur. I'm going by the theory that Legolas was born late during this time as presented in Michael Martinez's article Speaking of Legolas  
http:www. suite101. com/ article.cfm/ tolkien/ 36517  
and Ellen Brundige's Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince Among Equals  
http:www. / tolkien/ legolas.html  
This would make him some 525-600 years at the War of the Ring (rather young for an Elf).  
(Remove spaces in the URLs after copying them to the Address Bar for them to work)

**Chapter 5**

Legolas stared at his father in shock at the sudden confession. "No!" he cried softly. "That cannot be!"

"It is not," Hannion said. He gripped Legolas' shoulder, drawing the younger elf's full attention. "He is wrong," Hannion continued. "It was not murder. It was self defense."

Legolas looked away from Hannion to his father. Thranduil's eyes were downcast and heavily lidded. Legolas wondered if he had lost consciousness again. But then he saw his father shift slightly and wince.

"What happened?" he asked Hannion, realizing that he probably would not get a straight answer from Thranduil.

"Sadroniôn's father, Nûrdor, tried to assassinate your father shortly the War. Your father was forced to kill Nûrdor when he turned on your mother."

Legolas turned back to Thranduil and reached out, gently brushing the king's golden hair off his face. "Father?"

"I should have tried to do more for him," Thranduil said softly, still not looking at Legolas. "If I had not killed him…"

"He would have killed Lady Lossiell and possibly you," Hannion said sharply.

The interruption startled Thranduil out of his dark mood. Thranduil was not used to being spoken to in such a manner, especially not by a guard. His head snapped up and he locked narrowed eyes with the Silvan warrior. Hannion quickly lowered his eyes, unable to meet Thranduil's strong gaze, but even so, he pushed on.

"Forgive me, my lord," Hannion said. "But you are wrong. There was nothing you could have done for Nûrdor. You heard what his acquaintances and even his wife said about him. He was almost mad with the idea of killing you. And you did your best by Sadroniôn. He should not blame you." He took a deep breath but did not dare raise his eyes. "You should not blame yourself, my lord."

"He is right, father," he heard Legolas say.

At this, Hannion risked a look up. Thranduil was still looking at him, but his gaze has softened considerably. Thranduil sighed and a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Thank you, Hannion."

Hannion dipped his head in a respectful bow. "Yes, my lord."

Thranduil's smile widened slightly. "Just do not make a habit of it."

Hannion flushed and nodded. "Of course, my lord. But right now, we need to get you to safety. We need to make haste to Imladris. I will find the horses and bring them here."

"Be careful, Hannion," Legolas said. Bellgolf was dead and Calenthâr was missing and possibly dead as well. Hannion was the only one who could help him defend his father against Sadroniôn. Plus, he could not bear the thought of another needless death.

"I will, my prince," Hannion promised. With that, he quietly moved through the trees.

---

Sadroniôn ran into the clearing and quickly released several arrows into the tree he suspected the king to be hiding in. He frowned slightly when no body fell out but he wasn't really surprised at this turn of events. The trees had led him on a merry chase and it had taken him a while to make his way back. Now they were gone and it was going to be difficult to locate them now that nature itself appeared to have found him out and was working against him. Not to mention that he did not have a chance to take care of Hannion. No doubt he would be with the king.

He walked over to the tree and saw hoof marks in the dirt around it. _So they had found the horses,_ he thought. _I should have killed the beasts and trapped him here. They will make their way to Imladris now._

Sadroniôn let out a shrill whistle. A few moments later, his horse broke through the trees. He trotted toward Sadroniôn, but stopped just out of arms reach, shaking his head nervously.

"Come now, Dolen" Sadroniôn said, holding out his hand. "I will not hurt you. I would never hurt you, my only friend."

Dolen stamped his feet, but stepped up, nuzzling Sadroniôn's hand.

It was an unusual name for a horse, his comrades had told him. Even so, they thought Sadroniôn had named him such because Dolen's dark color allowed him to hide easily in the shadows. But Sadroniôn had named his horse Dolen because it suited his own true nature.

Sadroniôn stroked Dolen's long head softly, soothing him. He then jumped up on Dolen's back and turned him toward Imladris. He knew where his prey was headed. He also knew that, with the wound he had dealt Thranduil, they would not be able to travel as quickly as they normally would. He would simply ride ahead of them and find a location to ambush them.

He looked up, and saw the sky lightening. It would be cool and clear that day. _A good day for a hunt._

---

Lord Elrond looked up at the sky as it began to lighten, heralding the new day. It promised to be a pleasant day; sunny, yet cool with a light breeze. Even so, he could not shake the uneasy feeling that had taken a hold of him during the night.

He heard a whisper of movement behind him and then felt slender arms wrapping around him from behind.

"What is troubling you, my love?" asked Celebrian, resting her head against his back.

"I am not certain," Elrond admitted, taking her hands in his own.

"Surely you are not worried about King Thranduil's visit," Celebrian said. "I thought you were looking forward to seeing your old friend again."

"I am," Elrond muttered distantly. With the mention of Thranduil, Elrond had a sudden flash of certainty. "But I believe that this feeling is centered around him. I fear that he is in danger."

Elrond gently extracted himself from his wife's embrace and began quickly dressing for the day.

"In danger how?" Celebrian asked, helping him straighten his robes.

"That I cannot ascertain," Elrond replied.

"Will you send out Glorfindel?"

"If he is available, yes, and a couple of others," Elrond said. "Elladan or Elrohir as well; probably both will want to go. Thranduil and his party may be in need of medical treatment." With that, Elrond kissed Celebrian and quickly left to arrange a search party.

---

They had ridden in almost complete silence for the last few hours. Only when Legolas inquired about Thranduil was the silence broken.

Hannion rode with Thranduil seated before him. Legolas had wanted Thranduil to ride with him, but Hannion had felt that the prince was neither tall nor strong enough to be able to support Thranduil while riding. Legolas had reluctantly agreed, but remained within arms reach of his father, except when the path did not allow for two horses passing abreast. At these times, they would he would pass ahead of Hannion, searching for anything that would cause a horse stumble and warning Hannion to avoid it if possible so as not to jar Thranduil more than necessary.

The three only stopped briefly to check on Thranduil's wound. Hannion was pleased to see that the blood flow had almost stopped. He was confident that his king would be fine once they reached Elrond.

They had finally began their descent into the valley of Imladris. There was a cliff face to their right and a drop to their left. The path was wide enough for two horses, but just barely. Any misstep could send the rider on the left over the cliff, so Legolas rode head. When they came to a short stretch of the trail where the path widened considerably, Legolas took this opportunity to drop back and check on his father, who appeared to be sleeping.

"Father?" he said, reaching out to brush his hand across Thranduil's brow.

Thranduil's eyes came into focus and he looked up and smiled at Legolas.

"How are you feeling?" Legolas asked.

"A bit tired," Thranduil replied.

Legolas laughed slightly. "Just a bit?"

"I will be just fine after a good nights sleep in a soft bed," Thranduil continued.

"Several good nights sleep," Legolas quipped. "But rest now, we are almost to Imladris."

Thranduil nodded and leaned back against Hannion. When Legolas thought he was asleep, he asked Hannion, "We are almost to Imladris, are we not?"

Hannion stifled a laugh so as not to disturb Thranduil. "We are, my prince. Now go ahead and check the trail."

Legolas nodded and moved ahead. Now that they were near Imladris, he was feeling must less tense. Elrond was a legendary healer and an old friend of Thranduil; he would take good care of his father. But Legolas knew he would not rid himself completely of his uneasy feeling until Thranduil was fully healed.

_And until Sadroniôn is caught,_ he mused. He was still having difficulty understanding the concept of an Elf killing a fellow Elf. He learned about the Kinslayings of the First Age, but that had been so long ago. He father was not even alive at that time. There had not been any report of this type of crime for well over an age.

_Except when Father killed Sadroniôn's father._ Legolas shook his head. _Father had no choice. Nûrdor would have killed him and mother._

Legolas was startled out of his thoughts when he heard Hannion's horse let out a frightened neigh and the sound of bodies hitting the ground. He spun around and was horrified to see his father and Hannion on the ground and Sadroniôn standing before them.

---

He appeared to have just dropped from the sky, though a part of Hannion's mind reasoned that he must have been waiting on a ledge. But he didn't have time to further consider this theory as his horse reared up, sending him and Thranduil to the ground.

Hannion tried to cushion Thranduil's fall but, at the same time, managed to knock the wind out of him. Fortunately, his faithful horse stood, defending his master. Hannion caught his breath and made to his feet as Sadroniôn down the mighty steed with a well-placed arrow.

Hannion placed himself between Thranduil and Sadroniôn, drawing his sword. He noticed that Thranduil hadn't moved, but pushed that thought aside. He could do nothing for his king right now except defend him from Sadroniôn.

Sadroniôn smiled brightly at him and drew his own sword. Hannion wanted to do nothing more that wipe the smile of his face.

"Step aside, and I will let you go," Sadroniôn said.

"I decline your offer," Hannion hissed back. "I would die defending my king."

"And so you shall." With that, Sadroniôn charged.

TBC

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Dolen – "Hidden"


	6. Chapter 6

**Prefic Note:** I've learned an important lesson. This will probably be the last time I post a storybefore it iscompleted. Apologies for taking so long; hopefully the next chapter won't be such a wait.

Cheers!

**Title:** The Hunted  
**Summary:** A diplomatic trip to Rivendell turns tragic and a young Legolas finds himself fighting for his life as well as Thranduil's.

**Disclaimer:** Middle-Earth and her people were created by J.R.R. Tolkien. Copyright, trademarks and the like are held by their respective creators including Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Cinema. No money is being made off of this story.

**Timeline Note:** This story takes place toward the end of the Watchful Peace (2063-2460), a time during which Sauron temporarily withdrew from Dol Guldur. I'm going by the theory that Legolas was born late during this time as presented in Michael Martinez's article Speaking of Legolas  
http:www. suite101. com/ article.cfm/ tolkien/ 36517  
and Ellen Brundige's Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince Among Equals  
http:www. / tolkien/ legolas.html  
This would make him some 525-600 years at the War of the Ring (rather young for an Elf).  
(Remove spaces in the URLs after copying them to the Address Bar for them to work)

**Chapter 6**

Legolas dropped from his horse, his hand immediately reaching for his bow and an arrow. He nocked the arrow but didn't release it. Hannion and Sadroniôn were far too close together and he did not want to risk hitting Hannion.

Legolas looked down at Thranduil, who still hadn't moved. He wanted nothing more than to run to his father, but the two Elven warriors were also between them and he did not to want to get into a position where Sadroniôn might capture him. Legolas did not fear for himself, but he did not want to give Sadroniôn leverage against his father and Hannion.

So now, all he could do was wait for an opening.

Sadroniôn was one of the most skilled warriors in the Mirkwood army. Were it not for his introverted nature he could have easily attained a high rank. But he seemed happy with his lot in life, always smiling, no matter what the situation. This both reassured and disturbed his fellow warriors. But Sadroniôn seemed oblivious to these feelings and just kept on smiling.

Even now, while trying to kill one whom he had worked beside for centuries, Sadroniôn smiled.

Hannion was having a difficult time fending off Sadroniôn. The other elf was much quicker than he, if not more skilled. But Hannion was determined to defeat Sadroniôn or die trying. Sadroniôn would not lay another hand on his king while he still lived.

"Are you tired yet?" Sadroniôn asked lightly, as if they were merely sparring.

Hannion didn't answer as he parried another attack.

"It is not too late," Sadroniôn continued. "You can still back out and I will not kill you. You may even take the prince with you. All I want it Thranduil. I do not wish to fight you, Hannion. But you are keeping me from my goal."

"And you are keeping me from mine," Hannion retorted. "I do not wish to fight you either, Sadroniôn, but you leave me no choice."

Sadroniôn shrugged slightly. "Very well," he said.

He swung his blade in a powerful, wide stroke, causing Hannion to leap back or be sliced in two. Even so, Hannion did not escape Sadroniôn's sword altogether. It sliced through his jerkin and tunic and left a shallow cut across his chest. Hannion winced slightly then cursed when he realized that Sadroniôn had managed to maneuver him to the edge of the cliff and away from Thranduil.

But before Hannion could move, Sadroniôn pulled out a knife and threw it at something to Hannion's left. Hannion heard a choked cry of pain and quickly turned to see Legolas kneeling on the ground, the knife embedded deeply in his shoulder.

"No!" shouted Hannion as he turned his attention back to Sadroniôn. But the other Elf had taken full advantage of Hannion's momentary distractions. Sadroniôn was upon him now, swinging his blade.

Hannion stepped back instinctively but his foot met only air. He tried desperately to regain his balance and was only saved when Sadroniôn shot out his hand to grab the front of Hannion's tunic, though he did not pull him back.

"Sadroniôn?" Hannion gasped out.

"This could have been avoided," Sadroniôn replied calmly. "You should have just walked away."

Sadroniôn released him.

Legolas could not remember when he had felt so much pain. He couldn't move, he was shaking and his breath was coming out in short gasps. He tried desperately to think through the cloud of pain, telling himself over and over that his father needed him.

Finally, Legolas managed to bring his breathing under control and raise his head. Though it had seemed like forever to Legolas, it had only been a few moments.

He was met with the terrible view of Sadroniôn suspending Hannion over the cliff and then letting go.

Legolas let out a horrified cry and Sadroniôn turned toward him.

Sadroniôn was still smiling when the young prince looked up at him with horrified, pain-filled eyes. He was going to have to deal with the prince now, for he would only get in the way.

He began walking toward Legolas and then suddenly felt something wrap around his ankle. He looked down and was a bit surprised to see the something was actually Thranduil's hand.

"I will not let you hurt him again," Thranduil gasped out, trying to push himself up.

Sadroniôn simply laughed. "Do you think you really have a choice?" He kicked out fiercely, easily knocking the wounded Elven King back, and turned his attention back toward Legolas.

By that time, the prince had actually made it to his feet, albeit shakily. He held his wounded arm close to his body and griped his knife tightly in his right hand.

"I will give you the same option I gave Hannion," Sadroniôn told him as he approached. "He refused and it got him killed. What will you do?"

"I will protect my father," Legolas declared defiantly.

Legolas swung out with his knife, but Sadroniôn easily avoided and caught Legolas' wrist in his hand. Sadroniôn pulled the knife out of Legolas' grip and slammed the hilt into the younger elf's temple. Legolas crumpled to the ground without a sound.

"Legolas!" he heard Thranduil cry out behind him as he placed the prince's knife in his belt.

The king might have yelled something else, but it was drowned out by the fierce cry of Legolas's horse. But Sadroniôn did not even flinch when the horse charged at him. With unnatural calmness, he simply jumped out of the way of the thrashing hooves and sliced open the horse's neck. Sadroniôn frowned slightly as he was showered with the horse's blood. He looked down at his clothing, sullied with blood that was not his own and for a moment he paused. He felt something he had long though quashed rise up inside his mind.

Then he heard the sound of metal scraping against stone behind him and ruthlessly pushed it back down. He turned to face the Elven King.

Thranduil had managed to make it to his feet, albeit unsteadily. He had also managed to retrieve his sword from Hannion's slain steed and was holding it as best he could in his bloody, shaky hands. His breath was coming out in short, labored gasps and his shoulders were slumped. Yet, his face was angry and determined and in the king's eyes Sadroniôn saw the power that Thranduil possessed; the power that enabled the king to rule their realm and fight the Shadow when it threatened it.

For a moment, Sadroniôn felt fear. Though the king was wounded and barely able to stand, to Sadroniôn he looked more powerful then ever. Again Sadroniôn felt something rise up in his mind and again he pushed it back, taking his focus away from Thranduil's eyes and instead centering his attention on the king's physical appearance.

Sadroniôn laughed. The king looked pathetic, barely able to keep his feet and hold his sword aloft. He would be an easy prey.

"What exactly do you plan to do, Your Majesty," Sadroniôn said mockingly, bowing deeply. "Why not just give up? It would be easier for you." Sadroniôn rose again to his full height, facing the king. But he did not dare look into Thranduil's eyes again. "You grow weaker every moment. I could just wait here for you. I know you would dare not attack. I know you are waiting for me to make the first move. But I will not. We will just stand here, until you give up or simply drop from exhaustion."

"You will not defeat me, Nûrdor," Thranduil said through clenched teeth.

Sadroniôn paused slightly, then laughed again, though the laugh was strained. "And you are already delirious, calling me by my father's name. Though I am told I do look like him. But I wouldn't know. I barely remember him since you killed him when I was young."

"You made the same mistake you did last time, Nûrdor," Thranduil continued. "You pulled others, innocents, into our conflict." Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "Though I would not have thought that even you were capable of this atrocity. What dark magic have you performed? What have you done with your son?"

While Thranduil spoke, the near-omnipresent smile finally faded from the other elf's face. He did not reply. He stood still for several moments. Suddenly, he charged. Thranduil raised his sword up, but he was too weak and it was easily knocked away. The warrior reached out and grabbed Thranduil by the neck and roughly forced him to the ground.

"Clever, clever, Thranduil," Nûrdor hissed as he straddled Thranduil's waist and tightened the grip around his neck. "You found out my little secret."

Thranduil pulled at Nûrdor's wrist with both hands, but was far too weak to break his hold.

"Now, now," Nûrdor said, loosening his grip slightly. "Settle down an I will tell you a story. He was so young and curious. Do you ever wonder why he did not ask any questions about me? Because I told him everything. He was very open to my influence. I was always with him, helping him along, making sure he would be able to reach you. But, alas, I could not fully convince my son of your treachery. He would not kill you himself. So I took over. It was not very hard at all. I did not even realize I was doing it until it happened. I was very angry and suddenly found myself in control of his body. But it took a while to control him completely. I have been serving at your side for nigh fifty years. You did not even know. I could have slit your throat at any time."

"But he would not let you," Thranduil said. "Had you been in full control, you would have attacked long before this."

"Silence!" Nûrdor spat out, jabbing his knee into Thranduil's injury.

Thranduil could not suppress a gasp of pain and for a moment, he though he would go under. But the mist cleared from his vision and he once again found himself confronted with Nûrdor's dark eyes.

"You are right, though," Nûrdor continued. "Sadroniôn always managed to take control long enough to stop me. But not now." Nûrdor sneered at the king. "I finally defeated him. You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment."

"I pitied you once, Nûrdor," Thranduil replied. "I thought that you could have been helped, had I not acted rashly. But I see now that you are beyond help. That you would use you son in this manner, because of your grievance with me, proves this much. It seems I did fail Sadroniôn for not ridding him of you completely!"

"I said silence!" Nûrdor screamed, tightening his hand around Thranduil's neck and once again jabbing Thranduil with his knee. "I will finally be rid of you completely!" He raised his sword, prepared to strike.

Thranduil gasped again when pain raced through his body and again almost went under. But he suddenly felt the hand at his throat loosen completely and the pressure at his wound disappear. He forced his eyes opened and found his assailant staring down at him with a confused and scared look, his breath coming is gasps and the sword still raised to strike. And his eyes…

"Sadroniôn?"

"NO!" cried Sadroniôn flinging the sword away and rising to his feet. "All the wrongs you have made me do...I will not let you do this!" He stumbled away from Thranduil, clutching his head.

"Yes, Sadroniôn!" Thranduil gasped out. "Fight him!"

Sadroniôn looked up at Thranduil and smiled sadly. "Yes, my lord." He pulled Legolas' knife from his belt and held it to his chest.

"No, Sadroniôn, what are you doing?" Thranduil tried to push himself to his feet.

"It is the only way, My Lord," Sadroniôn replied calmly. "It is the only way to keep him from hurting anybody else. Thank you, King Thranduil, for your kindness. I wish I could have been a better subject. I wish I could have been stronger. But with my final breath, I obey your orders, my king. I will fight him, and I will defeat him. Please tell my mother that I am sorry and I love her."

With that, Sadroniôn plunged the knife into his own chest.

TBC


End file.
